A Song for You and Me
by sayaanara
Summary: Plagued by nightmares, a pair of weary teenagers seek solace in the night, eventually discovering that what they share is perhaps a little more special than the way he sings to her, and the way she holds on to him.


**A/N:** I cannot believe the amount of fluff I have just crammed into this one-shot. Holy crap. Anyways, I wrote this for a very special lady who happens to be an amazing artist and also my beloved waifu and I hope she likes this and the small inside joke I sprinkled around a bit because I know we're both dirty perverts who cannot contain ourselves lolol. I tried my best, woman! This is my first time writing in canon-verse and I hope I didn't suck.

*Rated T for mild language.

*Not set in any specific timeline within the story. Just when they're already 15+.

*What is this "song" you ask? Welp, it's a simple little thing that starts with 'L'. I'll let you decide what it is. (Hint: it rhymes with the word 'glove'.)

 _Enjoy!_

* * *

 **.: A Song for You and Me :.**

.: An EreMika One-Shot :.

 _~For Daniela~_

* * *

The night is laden with stars.

The sky is heavy with them: tiny, brilliant lights dotted all across a never-ending sheet of darkness, littered like white paint that's been splattered carelessly onto a black canvas. They shimmer and they glow. Twinkling and flickering sheepishly in the grand presence of a bold, radiant moon; fearless in all its splendor as it hangs over the world. A perfect circle. A king among the sky.

The heavens are assembled in these tiny, shining specks. Undisturbed by clouds, caressed by the summer breeze that hums and whispers, gentle little songs that are hissed into his ears as Eren sits quietly amidst it all, absorbing it, letting it seep into his soul. Complete him.

There's a sigh—his own.

A yelp—someone else's.

An odd, loud crunch and then the sound of rustling leaves coming from behind.

Eren's bolting to a stand before he even knows it, blinking in the darkness at a figure in the night. It's tall. Black. Robed in a large, thick blanket, swaying towards him like a dancing ghost. It's creepy. It's creeping in.

Immediately, green eyes grow wide. A stuttering mouth opens up to shout, shaky fists ready to fly around in the air to punch the spectral apparition when—

"Eren?"

Oh. Never mind. It's just Mikasa.

"Urgh." The boy's chest deflates heavily. His hands slump down to his sides like useless rags, arms dangling pitifully like sad willow tree leaves. Flustered, he exclaims, "Sweet Sina, Mikasa—YOU SCARED ME!"

The girl just laughs. A breath. So soft it's nearly carried away in the wind—but he hears her.

"Sorry."

"What are you doing here?"

"Hmm?"

"I said—" He watches her as she approaches, slowly, wobbling slightly on her feet. In the moonlight, he can finally see her face—but only slightly. Dark and hazy are her features, the vestiges of slumber still weighing heavily upon her eyes. He catches the slight limp in her walking, then asks, "What's wrong with your foot?"

"I stepped on a branch," she answers nonchalantly, shrugging a mild shoulder. Eren narrows his eyes.

"A branch."

"Yeah."

"You stepped on a branch, Mikasa."

"Yes."

"And you're limping." She stands close enough now that she's about an arm's length away. Close enough that he catches the scent of tousled bed sheets in her hair and the redolent fragrance of the girl's sleeping barracks wafting off the thick blanket she's cocooned around herself. She even _smells_ like sleep _._ He can't help scoffing, teasing, "They say she's Humanity's Second Strongest and she limps after stepping on a _branch_."

Mikasa's blinking so slow, half of him suspects she's actually sleep-walking. "Shhh, Eren," she breathes out in response, blinking even slower. "Shhh."

And then he smiles.

She does too.

Silently, they both smile at each other. A pair of sleepy fools.

The wind picks up, growing into a stronger murmur that makes the whole world around them sigh. The trees, the leaves, the branches… they all sway and dance to a sibilant, ancient song. The needles of grass undulate like waves beneath them, bathed in a silver pool of light; a grand plane that stretches along the expanse of their camp ground. Truly, this little spot where they stand is nice. This little spot is very, _very_ nice. It's hidden by an ample amount of trees so that nobody can see them standing, smiling at each other, neither of them making a sound. Nobody can see Mikasa blinking wearily at him. Nobody can see Eren trying to make out the drowsy features of her face. Nobody.

Only the stars.

And the bright, reigning moon, of course.

Mikasa yawns. "Whatcha doing up so late, Eren?"

He rolls his eyes, huffing, "I was just about to ask you the same thing."

"Well..." Her robed shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath. "I can't sleep."

"You sound like you just woke up, though."

"Yeah," she mutters. "From a nightmare."

Eren blinks at her. Her gaze is fixed on her bare feet below her, staring at some little blades of grass that peek out through the cracks between her toes. Eren looks down at her feet, too. They look so tiny.

His reply is simple. "Same."

"What did you dream about?" she asks him, still standing before him. Unmoving.

"Mom. And you?"

"Mom," she nods.

"Which one?"

"Hm?"

"Which 'Mom'? Your real Mom or my Mom?"

"Oh. Mine."

"I see."

There's silence. The sigh of the world. The silver light of the king among the sky.

There's Mikasa's delicate, sleepy murmur.

"Can I sit with you?"

"Oh!" Eren straightens, looking down at the large bed sheet he's set below him on the grass. "Sure."

The blanket draped along her body rustles as she brings herself down to sit beside him. Her feet bring some little blades of grass along with them, which get all over the place—but Eren doesn't complain. He sits down. The corners of the sheet beneath them are pinned down by rocks, but the fabric bulges in waves around the weight of their bodies, tossing some of the blades she's just brought with her to the sides. As Eren sits beside her, he's hit with her faint, girly scent: the spice of her hair, the sleepiness in her breath, the natural perfume that always radiates off of her. He can't describe it. Everything about her smells so sweet. So right.

It's calming.

He wonders if she can smell him too. She's so close. Her shoulders nearly brush against his. Nearly. Brushing. So close.

He almost wants to lean in—just a bit. Just to touch her.

But Mikasa shivers suddenly, admiring the stars in the sky, not paying him any mind. "Cold," she says, just low enough under her breath that he has to lean in a bit to hear her. "I don't know how you do it, Eren."

"What? Stay out in the night?"

She nods, tucking some strands of her hair behind her ears. The wind blows them right back out.

"It's not that bad," he shrugs. "I kinda like it out here."

"Don't you think we might get in trouble?"

"What do you mean?"

"For sneaking out."

Eren smiles, shaking his head. "Not if we don't get caught."

"Oh," she breathes, running her fingers through her fringe. "Oh, okay."

Eren snorts, lounging back on his forearms, staring at the back of her head as she pulls her legs up to herself and hugs them. She looks so small and cute from this angle, but it's probably just because she's covered in a blanket. Sina knows that girl is anything but.

"It was horrible."

It takes him a few seconds to realize she's just spoken to him.

"Oh. You mean the dream?"

"Mhm."

"I'm sorry." He lets out a long sigh. The wind takes it, blows it south. "So was mine."

"I don't doubt it." Mikasa tries to smooth out some more unruly locks of her hair, which ruffle gently in the wind and slip out of her grasp in defiance. Eren stares at her while she does this, realizing that he sometimes forgets that she's just a girl, still conscientious of her appearance—no matter how effortlessly flawless the guys back at base might think she is. She smooths out her bangs, staring up at the sky, still with her back to Eren, and speaks.

"I hate them." The nightmares, she means.

"Me too." The guys back at base, he means.

"I wish they'd go away. Forever."

"Yeah. Me too."

This time, they're both talking about the nightmares.

"Hey, Eren?"

"Hmm?"

"Aren't you cold?"

There's a pause. A lie swiftly follows. "Nope."

And then Mikasa's short reply ends the conversation. "Okay."

They stay like that for a while. Maybe two minutes, maybe five. Who knows? They're quiet for long enough that Eren's skin starts to prickle over with goosebumps. Long enough that he feels his own fingertips turn to ice.

Long enough that he surrenders, turns to her, says, "Um, okay. Maybe just a little bit."

He paws at the blanket that's now sagged around her shoulders, and Mikasa lets out a little snort, breathing out, "Alright," and then she slumps back to lay beside him without a second's hesitation. Just like that.

She is careful enough to leave an ample amount of space between them as she settles by his side and he settles onto his own space, looking at her, trying not to smile, trying not to think of how bad Jean would _kill_ to be in his place right now. The thought is delicious. Fantastic.

As she un-rucks the blanket around her, Eren catches a pale glimpse of her bare arms. He teeters his eyes away, though, the idiot. Thinks he's violated her somehow. But Mikasa doesn't seem to notice this. She's all eternal patience and silence as she pulls half of the blanket up to cover herself, and flings the other half to where he lays beside her. She accidentally throws a hand along with his share though, ends up bumping him in the gut with her clenched fist once the fabric lands atop his stomach.

And Eren grunts. Loudly.

"Oof!"

Mikasa gasps, but there's a sliver of amusement tingeing her voice. "Whoops. My bad."

"'S alright," he wheezes, breathless, clutching his gut, waving out a hand dismissively. "'S okay, Mikasa."

She lets out a little laugh, quickly covering her mouth, turning on her side so she can face him. "Sorry, Eren. Really."

"Nope." (He still can't breathe. He thinks he's dying.) "Don't you even worry about it."

There's silence beside him, but thanks to the imperceptible tremor that he catches by the corner of his eye, Eren knows the girl is laughing at him.

Still, he smiles. He can't breathe properly yet, but he smiles because he's the only one who ever gets to see her like this. Laughing. Sleepy. Drowsily draping a blanket around herself to keep warm, then draping the rest over him so he doesn't get cold.

The only one.

He's the only one who sees her.

Time stills. The stars turn quiet. The world resumes its tired, drawn-out sigh.

Eren and Mikasa are silent for a long while, listening to the wind, staring up at the stars, at the moon, at all the things that seem close enough to touch but are out of their reaches forever. The thought suddenly saddens Eren. It causes something to wilt and wither somewhere deep inside, somewhere where his heart should be.

Touching the stars… _Wouldn't that be wonderful?_ To live in a world where walls didn't cage him and titans didn't roam about and galaxies were only an arm's-length away. It's all incredibly unrealistic, sure. But _still_. Wouldn't that be great?

He turns his head to look at the girl that lays beside him.

Suddenly, he doesn't want to touch the stars anymore.

"Mikasa."

"Hm?"

"Are you asleep?"

She makes a sound, somewhere inside her. "Nope."

"Lies."

"Nuh-uh."

"Yeah-huh."

"Ugh." She pulls the blanket up to her nose, so that her voice is muffled when she says, "How can I be asleep if I'm talking to you?"

He looks at her eyes, closed shut and shivering just like the rest of her. Her whole body shakes underneath the blanket. She's still cold.

"Hey." He hesitates, clearing his throat. "Are you… Aren't you freezing?" Wow. That sounded less awkward in his head.

Mikasa makes another sound, somewhere in her mouth.

He takes this as a yes.

"Here." Before either of them can process what is happening, Eren brings her closer to him, enveloping her in his arms, and he feels her entire body turn hard as a rock, her shoulders going tense like tree trunks.

Alarmed.

Then there's Eren. Startled. His own breath suddenly lodged within his throat.

"Oh. Shit. I'm sorry."

"No."

"I didn't think—"

"No, no. It's okay, Eren." Despite her kind demeanor, he's still frozen, tangled up in a mess of sheets, with her head resting awkwardly atop his arm. He swallows. That can't honestly be comfortable for her. (It sure as crap isn't for him.) "It's okay," she whispers, looking at him with those dark, gigantic orbs that suck him in like vortexes. She smiles softly, repeats: "It's okay."

"Are you—?" He clears his throat once more, swallowing. His adam's apple bobs as a wad of saliva travels down his throat. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. You can hold me."

He's quiet for a moment. Staring at her. Feeling light-headed. Feeling dumb. Mikasa doesn't even try to move beside him. She waits for him to finish gawking at her, to open his mouth and stammer like a fool.

"But it's not, like, gonna be weird? I mean, I can stop if— Let me know when— If you want—"

"Eren."

"Yeah."

"Just hold me."

"Yep. Okay."

Awkwardly, he untangles his arms out of the blanket, shimmies his body closer to hers and snakes his arms around her until her head is resting only a few inches away from his, using his bicep muscle as her pillow. Now, her eyes look even more gigantic, right in front of him, blinking, staring, leaving him in awe. Her sweet, calming scent is suddenly overwhelming. It slaps him right across the face. He's distressed. Frozen. Turned to a block of ice.

Mikasa, however, finishes tossing the blanket about until it covers both of them entirely; and then they shimmy and snake around a little more until they're even closer, and his heat finally reaches her, and her frigid fingertips accidentally brush against his arm.

Eren's left a little breathless again. And this time, it's not because of a punch in the gut. (Which still hurts, by the way.)

"This is nice," she says, her breath hitting him square in the face. He's so close to her now; so so so close to her that her features are now perfectly decipherable in the moonlight. He eyes her cheeks, her lips, her nose, her eyelashes—things he knows he probably shouldn't be staring at the way he is right now. Everything about her seems bigger and amazing so he looks away. He picks a spot up in the star-dotted sky and stares at it, barely registering anything but her quiet, solemn breathing by his side, and the murmurs and swishes of the world around them.

"It is," he agrees quietly. "I can't remember the last time we did this."

"Probably when we were five," she jokes, chuckling. (Another marvelous thing only he ever gets to witness: her laugh.)

"Yep," Eren nods, sandwiching a hand between the ground and his head, still staring up at some indifferent point in the buzzing, trembling universe. "Probably."

Mikasa's very still, making out the tendons in his neck through the darkness. "Yup."

Yup.

It's really that simple.

They used to do this all the time. Mikasa gets cold? Eren holds her. Boom. Simple as that. He's been doing it since the night she first stayed with him, and he's never thought anything of it since. It's simple. Simple, simple, simple. No big deal, right? They used to to this when they were little. They used to do this all the time!

But they're big now.

And she's suddenly very startling. And he's suddenly very warm—growing hotter, actually. And then he's not even sure of what to do. Suddenly, lying still and breathing normal seems like too much of a task. He's self-conscious for no reason. What if he's too close to her and making her uncomfortable? His leg itches, but now he's too shy to scratch it—his own leg! He's too afraid. As if reaching down and away from her might make her leave him somehow. He thinks he should hold still. Hold his breath. Hold something. Do something. Something, something, something!

Nope.

It's not that simple anymore.

His entire body's gone stiff as a log beside her now. He hopes she doesn't notice.

Mikasa takes a long, deep breath. The air that escapes her hits him on the neck, so he looks back down at her and stares into her eyes.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Lies."

Eren thinks he sees her roll her eyes at him. He's not sure.

"Okay, fine. You're right. I'm lying."

"Tell me." He doesn't even bother to cover his newly-exposed arm when the wind blows the blanket slightly off of his frame. "What are you thinking?"

"Well..." She pulls the thick fabric back up over his shoulder, tucking it beneath his chin so that it stays in place. "It's just… I was brought back, all of a sudden."

"Brought back?"

"Yeah."

He's frowning now. "What do you mean?"

The girl takes yet another deep breath, and the air hits him on the side of the jaw this time. "I mean like… suddenly, I remembered something."

"What's that?"

"Do you remember when we used to do this? And your mom would sometimes walk into the room and find us like this in our sleep?"

Eren frowns at the memory of his mother. "Yeah..."

"Well, I remembered this one time when we woke up the next morning and we found her. Curled up into a neat, little ball. Sleeping right by our feet like a small kitten."

Eren snorts, shifting his head so that it doesn't crush his fingers. He stares at the girl in front of him, loving the fact that she's talking the most she has in weeks. "Yeah. I remember that."

"And one time," she continues, whispering now. "She joined us. Sang us both to sleep. Sang to us until your dad walked into the room and told us to be quiet. Remember that? Then she just kept singing once he left like nothing happened. And you and I couldn't stop giggling underneath the sheets." She's smiling now, pulling the blanket further up her neck, scooting closer to Eren to catch some more of his heat. "I don't know… I was just thinking of that for no reason."

"Hm," he hums, and there's a whole breathtaking assembly of stars right above him, but yet the girl laying beside him is all that consumes his eyes. His hand travels up and down her arm now, offering her more warmth. The blanket is draped all nice and cozy around them, but Mikasa still shivers from the cold.

Eren looks more into her face, searching. Her features seem ethereal and dreamy in the moonlight, almost like she isn't even real at all. Still, she looks at him, and she moves her arm—slightly—just beneath his hand, so that he knows she really is there with him after all.

Maybe having nightmares won't have to be so bad. Just look at them, at the vivid night spiraling around them. They're safe. They're okay. Nothing can touch them.

Nothing.

Not even the stars.

(This time, the thought is comforting.)

After a moment of silence, Eren speaks. "Do you remember what songs she'd sing to us?"

Mikasa thinks for a second. "Nope."

"Lies."

"Stop saying that."

"Come on, Mikasa." His hand rests just over her forearm, so he swipes his thumb over her skin—which suddenly makes her stiffen, and then it makes him stiffen too. Seriously. This is all so weird. He's never touched her like this, and yet everything about the way she slowly eases back to normal underneath his fingers just feels so damn right. He doesn't bother to remove his hand. Instead, he just keeps looking at her, swiping his thumb, prompting, "Come on. I know you remember."

"I don't."

"Lies."

" _Ugh._ "

He smiles, the pearly row of his teeth glowing white in the night, like he's suddenly taken the gigantic moon and shoved it into his mouth. The mental image makes Mikasa snicker.

"Seriously," he breathes, "I've heard you. I hear you sing them all the time."

"Wait." Slowly, she cranes her neck up to look at him, her eyes wide and even more startling than before. Baffled, she asks, "What did you just say?"

Eren nods. "Mhm. When you're all by yourself, you sing sometimes. I hear you."

"Oh, no." Mikasa shakes her head, the silver light in her cheeks now stained with a blooming shade of red. She's blushing. She hides her face in a flash, pulling the blanket up over her head, mewling.

Eren laughs. "Oh, come on now. You're not that bad." She gives a little groan. He laughs a little louder. "Mikasa, it's fine. I think you sing pretty."

"I'm going back to sleep."

"Stop."

"Forever. I'm going to sleep forever."

"Why are you so embarrassed? It's just me." He pokes her forehead through the fabric. "Oh, come on! Please? I'm not gonna judge your singing voice."

"Swallow me, earth. Swallow me." He doesn't hear her when she says this.

"Mikasa."

She pulls the blanket off her face. Looks at him. "What."

"Sing for me."

"No way."

"Please?"

"No."

"Pleaaaaseeee?" She turns on her back now, so that she's facing the sky. Her profile is beautiful and gentle, but he doesn't marvel at it for too long. He pokes her again, this time on the arm, earning him a quick slap from her hand (quick, but still pretty damn painful). "Mikasa. Please." She still won't look at him. She's closed her eyes. He carols: "It'll help us take our minds off our nightmares."

This makes her snap her eyes open, turn her head. She looks at him again. Frowns. "Eren..."

"Come on, Mikasa. Sing. I've already heard you! What's the worse that can happen?"

The girl just shakes her head, sighing, her breath mixing with the rest of the night. "You'll laugh."

"Will not."

"I don't trust you."

Eren gasps, bringing a hand to his chest. "Oh, I'm hurt."

This makes her smile, and eventually capitulate. "Fine. But only if you sing with me."

"I don't know the words."

"I'll teach you."

"Fair enough."

"Which one?"

Eren ponders for a moment, deciding on which song. It's not long before he finally says, "The one she'd sing while washing dishes. You two always sang that one together."

"The one about the tree and the frog?"

"Yep."

"Okay..." Mikasa inches closer to him now, turning on her side so she can face him again. She whispers, and he can almost taste the childish sweetness in her breath. "Do it with me."

Eren nods, looking into her eyes. He whispers, too. "I will."

Then, suddenly, the girl begins to sing. It's nothing he's never heard before—and still, he's utterly astounded. This is the first time she sings _to_ him, the first time he gets to hear her this up close. Her voice is soft and delicate so that he finds himself gaping at her, finding it hard to believe that this is the same girl that he rescued all those years ago. The same girl who's praised for being ruthless in battle and for possessing incomparable strength— _s_ _he's singing to him!_

An entire verse. That's what she croons out first. When she's done, she brings a hand up to his face. Her fingertips graze his cheek. He feels her nails drag along his skin, almost absently. She smiles at him, then says, "Your turn."

Eren grins.

Oh, Jean would _love_ this.

He tells her he didn't hear her, just so that he can see her roll her eyes at him and sigh, but also sing the entire thing all over again. He can't help smiling now. He must look like such a fool. Well, he _is_ a fool. And he doesn't really care.

Mikasa sings for him.

Her lashes flutter as she looks away. She never looks at him while she sings, so he's left with nothing but her hazy features and her light, angelical voice. When she's done, she doesn't place her hand over his cheek like he wants her to. Instead, she kicks his shin beneath the blanket.

He groans.

She laughs. "Your turn."

"Got it."

And then it's Eren's turn to sing. And he sings like he doesn't even care, 'cause he knows he's not a singer. He's not a man. He's not even a titan fighter, if we're really honest here. He's just a boy, singing to a girl, repeating her own lyrics out to her in hopes of hearing her respire, just to see her stare at him and laugh a bit and smile just a little more. He's just a young, foolish kid and she's just a strong, gorgeous girl and the entire night is perfect and ever-lasting all around them. The stars flicker on forever. The moon never relinquishes its throne. Eren never stops looking at her and Mikasa never stops looking at him. Suddenly, the titans, the planet, every damned, inexplicable war—they're nothing. They don't exist. In the simpleness of this one endeavor, in the silliness of this one childish song, the two of them share the entire world. He feels so suddenly eternal, like his lungs will never cease to breathe, like her eyes will never look away from him and like her hands will never stop holding his—just as they're doing right now. And who knows what the future holds? Who knows if titans will rain down from the sky tomorrow? Who knows anything at all but the fact that nothing else matters anymore? Because suddenly— _suddenly—_ Eren's discovered a very vital, very important, very luminous, brilliant fact:

He thinks… He knows…

 _He loves her!_

"That was nice."

"Wha—?"

"Your singing," she says, lacing her fingers with his underneath the blanket. "I like it."

"Oh." (Holy shit. Talk about a reverie he just had there.) "Um, thanks."

"Don't be embarrassed."

"What?"

"You don't have to be embarrassed," she pouts, teasing him. "I won't judge your singing voice."

Eren rolls his eyes. "Stop being ridiculous."

And he thought that she would laugh or roll her eyes at him or something. But she doesn't. She just looks at him. She stares.

"What?" he asks her, noticing the sudden shift in her expression. "What is it?"

"It's not..." The words escape her for a moment, until she clears her throat to speak again. "It's not weird?"

"What is?"

She looks down at their hands, joined under the blanket, a visible bulge over the fabric. "This," she breathes. "It's..."

She doesn't finish speaking.

Eren gapes as a lock of hair falls before her eyes. He goes to brush it away, but that would mean ripping his hand away from hers, and he sure as shit doesn't want that.

"It's not weird," he whispers, a bit surprised by what he's just said.

"No?"

"Nope."

"Are you sure?"

He snorts, giving her hands a little squeeze. He thinks he feels his palm sweating—and maybe even hers. "No, Mikasa. Not to me, at least."

She blinks at him, going silent. The wind quiets to a sibilant, eerie hiss—and it doesn't ruffle her hair or the blanket draped over them anymore. It's gentle. The night is utterly serene.

He takes in a breath to ask: "Is it weird to you?"

Mikasa shakes her head. "No."

"Good." And Eren's smiling again, realizing that she's the only person in the world who ever manages to pull these many grins out of him. Suddenly, he's tempted to say—to tell her:

 _I love you, Mikasa._

But he's not a man, or a fighter, or a brave, unrelenting knight. He's just a boy.

And he's scared of what he's feeling.

He doesn't know… What should he do? Should he tell her? Should he? What if she feels the same way? What if she laughs and tells him she understands? That she's been waiting all her life for him to—

"Eren."

"Y-yeah."

"Let's keep singing."

"Yep. You got it."

And they commence to sing again.

Yup.

It's really that simple.

As they sing, Eren's conscious of the way she swipes her thumbs over the back of his hand, gentle swirling motions that go along with the rhythm of her music. He summons another drop of courage, just to slip his other hand out from underneath his head and brig it down to hold both of hers. Like this, they hold on to one another. Like this, they say more than what their words would ever be able to convey.

And maybe one day he will tell her. Maybe one day Eren will find the strength to say to say: I love you. I always have. And not in the way you thought I always did—not in the way _I_ thought I always did. No. I love you a bit more than that, and with a lot more of myself. I love you like I don't love anything else in my life.

I want you.

I need you.

Please always be by my side.

But tonight is not the night for that. He's not tempted by such sudden declarations. Not tonight. Not yet.

Tonight's the night for their little song. For lullabies about trees and frogs and memories of Mom _._ Tonight's the night of singing their duets and holding one another, of forgetting the entire world exists just so that they can create their own.

Tonight, Eren sings to Mikasa and feels her fingers on his cheek, her breathing on his skin, her eyes on his throat as she imagines the rumble that stirs within it as he sings to her. He hears her voice as she follows his, and then his own as it fills the empty spaces between her lyrics, and then they're both singing along. Together. Their voices floating up like little wisps that glide into the sky.

Perhaps their hands will never reach them, but at least their song might reach the stars.

Perhaps he will tell her in the future.

Perhaps.

Someday, he'll be brave enough to confess his truth. That he wants her. That he needs her. That he may not understand what he feels right now but that it fuels him, it composites his words, it holds him sturdy to the ground and it gives him fire, it gives him breath. It makes something foreign throb within him, something lively, something pure. It drives incredible pulsating sensations all throughout his skin—And probably (hopefully), he won't even word it exactly like that. Because yeah. No. That sounds a little weird.

Whatever.

He loves her.

And soon, _soon_ , he'll be brave. Maybe it will be tomorrow. Maybe it will be two seconds from now. Maybe it will be years from where they are.

But tonight, they only have her blanket, the moon, the sky that's specked with little lights that hold more history than anyone will ever know. They have their hands, entwined perfectly together, the music that pours out of their mouths and the peaceful sigh of the careful breeze around them. They have Eren's voice, and Mikasa's voice, and the presence of both their mothers shining by their sides.

They have this.

They have each other.

They have enough.

Suddenly, everything's okay, everything's perfect, everything's just right. The future is still frightening and devious, nightmares still roam about in the absence of daylight, titans still claim their rightful freedom but everything is fine. Everything is so perfectly, unbelievably fine.

Because Eren thinks he's just discovered the lyrics to a new kind of song. One he knows he'll be singing forever.

"Again," the girl whispers once they're done, yawning, closing her hazy dreamy eyes.

And Eren looks at her. He grins, knowing:

Yup.

Definitely forever.

.: The End :.


End file.
